“That’s right, dear, just keep watching, following back and forth, letting yourself sink deeper and deeper...”

Misty stared vacantly at the lime green sphere that had become a lime green smear in her blurred vision, swaying from side to side before her. Her eyelids drooped, her jaw was slack, her back had hunched over, and her arms hung loosely at her sides. She was so mesmerised, she wasn’t even able to recognise how mesmerised she was. All she was aware of was Dr. Goodman’s voice, and the all-encompassing tranquility permeating her slouched body and empty mind.

She hadn’t felt this relaxed in... well, ever, probably. A naturally nervous and timid person, she was in a pretty much constant state of worried hypervigilance, always afraid of something going wrong or of upsetting someone. Her anxiety had become so debilitating, she’d booked an appointment with a reputable hypnotherapist in the hope of calming herself.

Even as she walked from her car to the clinic, she became less and less confident the session would even work. It didn’t help that a passing Great Dane barked at her, making her jump out of her skin and scurry inside. She was terrified of big dogs. Unsettled as she was, she was sure that not even someone with Dr. Goodman’s skills would be able to hypnotise her - or that she’d use up the hour trying to.

Not even twenty minutes later, Misty was slumped in her seat, watching a bright green blur, listening blankly to the therapist’s soothing voice. “Good girl, Misty,” the Doctor said softly. “I knew you could do it. I knew we’d get you into this nice, peaceful, placid state. You’re so obedient, so eager to please, I knew you’d sink into a lovely deep trance for me. Such a good girl.”

Misty didn’t know when, or why, the Doctor started calling her a good girl. She couldn’t think about whether or not she liked it, but some subconscious part of her was humming with delight at the older woman’s approval.

“That’s it... It’s all right, sweetheart. I can help you with your fears and anxieties. I’ll make you feel so much better.”

The hypnotised patient let out a faint sigh of relief. She was so lucky to have found a Doctor who could help her.

“Now, I could merely calm your nerves, give you a confidence boost, and send you on your way. But that’s only a short-term solution, and it’ll fade, leaving you no better off in the long run. Suppressing your symptoms will not cure you. We need to deal with the root cause. Luckily, I think I know what that is.”

The words washed over Misty, as she followed the slow smear swaying back and forth.

“I had my suspicions when you arrived - I’ve seen others like you before,” Dr. Goodman continued, her tone so smooth and strong, so assured and reassuring, so confident and controlled. “When you told me about that little encounter you had outside, I knew for sure. You see, you’re so unusually jittery, so jumpy, compared to other people.” She paused for a moment, and her next words were a little heavier with obvious importance. “But then, you’re not a person at all, are you?”

Misty’s brow creased a little, the statement slightly confusing her even in the depths of trance.

“No, of course you’re not. You’re a dog. A small dog, so easily intimidated by everything around you - especially bigger dogs.”

She cocked her head to one side, her blank brain processing what the Doctor had said. Something inside her protested at the idea, but it was too deep down, too far away, too quiet to be heard over the therapist’s clear, calm assertion. The longer the notion bounced around her empty head, the more it made sense. She was in no state to truly argue, at any rate.

She was a dog. She was a small dog. She was a tiny Terrier. As she sat there dimly pondering this new, inarguable truth, she felt more and more canine by the second. She felt small, and simple, and fluffy. Playful energy started to pulse through her, her sleepy eyes brightening and widening, still following the green ball in the Doctor’s hand as she slowly slouched forwards off the couch, falling onto all fours. She started to gently pant, her tongue just on the cusp of emerging from her mouth, its tip resting against her lower lip.

“Good girl! Such a good girl, accepting what you are so quickly. I’ve seen so many silly little puppers like you who didn’t know themselves, and some of them took a while to recognise what they really were. You’re so delightfully credulous, my dear - it’s adorable!”

The praise made Misty so happy, her whole body singing with delight, she instinctively let out a high-pitched, “Ap!” It felt so good, so right, she yapped a couple more times. “Urp! Arp!” A smile spreading across her muzzle, she let her tongue fall free of her lip, hanging down her chin as she panted harder, her gaze still transfixed on the item in the Doctor’s hand.

“Very good girl. I think you deserve a little fun after everything you’ve been through - a little game of... fetch!”

And Dr. Goodman flung the tennis ball across her office - and with another squeaky yelp, Misty charged after it on her four legs, following it to the corner of the room and seizing the fuzzy felt-covered sphere with her teeth. She scrambled back across to the Doctor, who had her legs spread apart, allowing the little dog to situate herself in between them and reach her head up, presenting the ball to her. The therapist took it from Misty’s unresisting mouth with a smile, and rewarded her with headpats. Her eyes rolling with pleasure, Misty rested her head on the woman’s thigh, panting and whining euphorically.

Her simplified mind could no longer recall her incredulity when Dr. Goodman presented the object she intended to use to hypnotise her. At the time she’d thought it absurd that a tennis ball could entrance her, but the Doctor had assured her that she could use anything as a point of focus and still be successful - the object itself was quite immaterial. Misty would probably have conceded that point now, had she been capable of human thought.

“Aw, sweetheart,” the Doctor said sympathetically to the docile dog leaning on her leg. “It breaks my heart to think what you’ve endured. A poor little pup like yourself, all alone in the wide world with no-one taking care of you, surrounded by big scary dogs and big scary people... No wonder you’re such a nervous, twitchy thing!”

Misty whimpered a little, her memories obscured but the sense of dread they gave her penetrating the pleasurable haze she was in - just for a moment, before another long stroke through her hair quelled her unease once more.

“You need someone to take care of you. You need an Owner. Would you like that, girl? Would you like me to take you home with me, and be your Owner for a little while? I have quite a few pups so I might have to get you adopted, although you are so cute, I think I’ll probably struggle to let you go...!”

Just about processing what the Doctor was proposing, Misty hurriedly barked her eager assent, beaming up at her with wide, shining eyes. Yes! Yes, she’d love an Owner! That was exactly what she needed! And there would obviously be none better than the wonderful, kind Doctor.

“Then it’s settled!” Dr. Goodman chuckled to herself. “I really should stop taking in strays. My wife’s going to be so mad at me... at first. But I’m sure it’s the best thing for you. Perhaps you’ll find a little more confidence once you’ve spent time around dogs your own size.”

“Ap!” Misty agreed.

“Now, would my new pet like a treat?”

“Harp! Arp!”

“Well, you’re in luck, darling.” With a mischievous smile, Dr. Goodman unzipped her trousers. “I’ve got a bone for you right here.”

Mouth slavering, the little dog leaned into her new Owner’s crotch and put her dangling tongue to work. As she lavished her attentions on the tasty bone, she received more headpats and more praise, suffusing her body with pride and contentment. She was so happy she’d found someone to take care of her. She never had to worry about a thing, ever again.